


Home Sweet Home

by mi_pan_susu43



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Homesickness, Hurt No Comfort, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:00:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25890982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mi_pan_susu43/pseuds/mi_pan_susu43
Summary: He used to dream about flying to the moon and touching stars, about how beautiful the thousands of galaxies were, and god he was so, so wrong. Because space? Space is fucking terrifying.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1





	Home Sweet Home

**Author's Note:**

> I- This is my first fanfic. I don't know how anything works here lmao. Enjoy ig? It kinda sucks, but like, its fine

His room, no, _the room_ , is cold, dark, and cluttered. The air is damp, and the only audible noise is the quiet hum of the vents.

This room isn’t his own.

His room is back in Cuba. His room has astronaut bed sheets, and old stuffed animals, and an annoying older brother, and piles of dirty clothes, and an empty fish tank because he’s shit at taking care of goldfish.

His room is in his crappy little house with his big ass family, because these people in outer space are _not_ people he would consider family. Family’s supposed to care about you. These people don’t care. They hardly listen. Family’s not supposed to yell at you if you zone out for too long or start to ramble as if you can control it, no matter how hard you try to stop the avalanche of word vomit.

Lance stopped trying a while ago.

He’s too tired to try. Hell, he’s too tired to stand. But he’s not tired enough to fall asleep, because his fucking mind is running a hundred miles a minute and for once in his goddamn life Lance wants to slow down, but he can’t try and get it to pace itself because trying gets him nowhere and trying is taking _too_ much energy and _too_ much strength.

He curls into himself, hiding under the covers of the bed. His throat burns, and his eyes sting, and his stupid brain won’t stop talking, jeering, plaguing him with old memories, suffocating him with new ones, and choking him with insecurities.

_Home._

He wants to go home.

Home, where he can run in the rain, freely, as far as his legs will carry him. Home, where he can hug his mother and father and tell them he loves them. Home, where he can mess with his siblings and continue to be a kid, like he’s supposed to. He shouldn’t be here, not now, not ever. He isn’t cut out for any of this. Not, space, not Voltron.

Lance lets out a sob.

He used to dream about flying to the moon and touching stars, about how beautiful the thousands of galaxies were, and god he was so, so wrong. Because space? Space is fucking terrifying. It’s cold, dark, cluttered, and Lance wants out. Space is not his home, so he makes himself promise. He makes himself promise that no matter how long he’s stuck here, no matter how many years he’ll have to spend fighting, space will never become his home.

Surprisingly, for once, his brain takes a break.

Tears are streaming down his face and smearing on his pillow, and he can barely breathe without hiccuping, but Lance feels tired, tired enough to sleep.

He closes his eyes, and in the morning he acts as if nothing happened. They don't care. They won't listen. 

**Author's Note:**

> There was no effort put into this I am so sorry-


End file.
